I want
by romanticidiot
Summary: HermioneRon. One Shot. The trio are in a cold, damp, small tent, and Hermione and Ron have something of a talk.


**DISCLAIMER:** All worlds, profits, characters, and concepts relating to Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and her affiliates.

That sounded rather good, didn't it?

I Want … 

**By**

**Secret Slashyness**

The camp was cold, dark, and lonely, as three teenagers sat huddled together in a tiny muggle tent in the middle of nowhere, on a miserable, wet night. They had no source of heat, and their only light came from a small torch that they used sparingly. Ron Weasley sat in between his two best friends trying not to shiver. He wished magic wasn't so easily tracked, and that they didn't have to rely solely on muggle conveniences to hide from the Ministry and other authorities that would be very interested in their whereabouts.

Hermione Granger sat beside him and thought glumly of the warm fireside of the Gryffindor common room, which she doubted she would ever see again. Her mind lingered on the thousands of books in the Hogwarts library that she would never get to read, and she tried hard not to think of the thousands of other things she would never do if they never got out of this mess.

Harry Potter sat on the other side of Ron and his green eyes stared vacantly out into the night through the open fly cover. He felt Ron's periodic shudders and wished he had never dragged his friends along on this fool's mission to find the remaining Horcruxes, yet at the same time was more grateful for their presence than he could ever tell them. His thoughts played over the events of the day, and the new information they had uncovered. He didn't like to think much about the future because he didn't know what kind of future it might be. He preferred to concentrate on exactly what was happening right then. The problem with that was that 'right then' was incredibly depressing.

He gave a great sigh and gave up.

"I'm going to bed," he said quietly to his companions, and Hermione leaned across Ron to give him a tight hug.

"Okay," she told him. "I'll be there soon, I just need to … goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight," he echoed, and retreated further into the tent to where their few belongings were spread out. Hermione and Ron listened to him shuffling around, and sighed silently with relief as they heard him settle finally.

"I'm so worried about him," Hermione said in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Me too," Ron returned, without looking at her. "But there's nothing we can do. We're doing all we can.

"It's not enough," Hermione said.

"What more can we do? We're here, aren't we? We give him support, strength, and company. He has your brilliant logic and strategy at his command, and my … well, brute strength I suppose."

"You're more than that," Hermione said sharply.

Ron shrugged. Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and huddled even closer in to herself. They sat in silence for a while longer before Hermione sighed.

"I don't think we can go on like this," she said softly. "I don't know if this is the right thing to do anymore."

"I don't know if it ever was," Ron said. "But it's what Harry wanted. And we are making progress, aren't we? We found out a lot today, and with a bit of luck we'll get something more tomorrow."

"But that's just it, isn't it, Ron?" Hermione asked, a delicate note of panic creeping into her voice. "We've had no luck since it started. All we've had is false lead after false lead, disappointment after disappointment."

"Wizards make their own luck," Ron said fiercely. "We'll get there, Hermione. Nothing is going to happen to Harry without our say so, and we're not going to say so."

Hermione didn't say anything but inside she felt just a little bit warmer. Harry might be unpredictable and unstable, they may be running a little bit further away from themselves every day, and there may be no stable hope for the future, but at least Ron would also be there. At least Ron's unshakeable faith in her never wavered, at least he always believed in the best, at least Ron was … always Ron.

Hermione sighed and rested her head against his shoulder. She loved him, she knew. She probably always had. But with things the way they were, she was never going to tell him that. If he didn't feel the same way … although sometimes she thought … then how would they be able to work together as a team? And even if he did … and there were moments when … how could they be together and not exclude Harry? They worked so well together now because things were equal between them. Well, as equal as they could be, being two sidekicks and a predestined hero.

Ron finally noticed her depression and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. Hermione leant into him and took comfort from his strong chest and that inimicable Ronness that drew her to him in so many ways. She resisted the temptation to bury her head into his chest and never look away again. Instead she listened to him breathe, felt the rise and fall of his chest, and remembered everything about the way his arms felt around her.

"Hermione," he said suddenly. "I … I wanted to say that … well, things could change at any moment, and … if anything should ever … I just wanted to say that … if I …"

"Ron," Hermione interrupted, but he shushed her.

"I have to say this, Hermione, please," he took a deep breath. "If I should … die … then I wouldn't want it to be without you knowing that … how I …"

Hermione pulled back out of his arms and looked at it him in the tiny amount of light from the half moon. For the first time in a very long time, his face was absolutely unguarded. There were no barriers in place, and she was just looking at him, Ron.

"Ron," she whispered, unsure what she was seeing.

"Hermione," he said so softly she felt like he was caressing her face with his words. With the characteristic bravery that had seen them through so many situations, he brought his fingers to gently brush her cheekbone and jaw line.

"Believe me when I tell you, Hermione, that you are the best thing in my life. You are the best thing _ever_ in my life. I want …" Ron trailed off.

"Yes?" Hermione breathed.

"I want …"

_Say it, say it, say it, say it,_ Hermione pleaded.

"I want …" Ron's eyes dropped from hers and Hermione felt her stomach plummet. He wouldn't say it. He couldn't say it. He could put his life on hold to chase after his best friend, he could learn curses, hexes, and spells to drain the life from a person, he could stare death in the face and smile afterwards, but he could not admit his feelings for her.

"I want …"

"You," Hermione finished for him, unable to believe her own ears. She hadn't meant to say that. Ron jerked his head up to stare at her.

"You," he repeated.

"Me," Hermione said.

"You knew," he said.

"I hoped," Hermione corrected.

There was silence again, and they didn't look at each other. Then Ron was kissing her, and for just that moment everything was okay.

"What about Harry?" Hermione asked in the silence that followed, where she hid her face in his neck.

"Harry is happy you've got it figured out, and can shut up and go to bed now," came a voice from behind them, and they jumped. Then they smiled shamefacedly and got up and followed Harry into the tiny tent.

As Hermione lay on her back staring at the tent, she thought that just maybe things could actually work out after all.

"I want …" she murmured, and rolled onto her side. She came face to face with Ron's eyes on the other side of her.

"I want," he mouthed to her, and Hermione finally fell asleep.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

This story, above _all_ others, is written for Hannah. I just wrote in the one pairing I abhor above all others, for her birthday.

Happy birthday Hannah! May you never say I don't write you enough stories ever again. I think I feel sick from that, but it's yours, my dear, I hope you enjoyed the uber amounts of fluff.


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